Karma
by Nyaliss
Summary: They say that if you truly hurt your soulmate in one lifetime, it can take her ten lifetimes to forgive you.


Title: Karma  
Author: Dina  
E-mail: nyaliss@hotmail.com  
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon. Do you know how much that fact has traumatized me? ;__;  
  
Author's Notes:  
This is based on the anime version, around the ever so famous breakup. WAIT! Where are you  
going? ;__;  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
. . .to forgive. . .  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Come. . . Come here, young man. I will not hurt you. I just have something to say.  
  
No. I do not want money. I do not need your money. Just listen to me.  
  
My, you're a handsome one, aren't you? Stubborn too.  
  
Oh, oh yes. I do have something important to say or, to be more precise, to ask.  
  
Do you know what they say? They say that if you truly hurt your soulmate in one lifetime, it can take  
her up to ten lifetimes to forgive you?  
  
Why am I telling you this?  
  
Because I can see the silver cord that binds you and it is tainted, stained with tears and blood. It smells of  
pain, anguish, heartbreak. . . That all seems to be caused by you. Tears and blood can be washed away,  
but the last. . . Do you know how hard they are to forget? Do you know how excruciating a task it is to  
wipe all those clean?  
  
One wrong can take up to ten lifetimes. How many wrongs have you made?  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The woman watched the young man whirl away from her, midnight eyes angry but troubled. She could see  
denial begin to rise from the flattened line of his lips and the set of his jaw. How foolish, how blind, how  
typical. Didn't he know she was only trying to spare him the grief? She shook her head, her eyes a sea of  
calm within the dark cowl that veiled the rest of her features from the world. She could, of course, always  
let him be to experience the repercussions of his mistakes first hand; however, the thought of how that would  
hurt his soulmate even more brought a wince to her youthful face. Hers was the heart she was not willing to  
risk, the soul she was not willing to allow to break. She set her shoulders and brought her chin up resolutely.  
  
"I will show you," she whispered, watching his tall form disappear into the crowd. "May heaven help you  
then."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
He was dreaming. . . He had to be. He squinted in an attempt to pierce the fogs of his imagination and took one  
step forward, blind though he was.  
  
And fell.  
  
He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came, no breath for him to make a sound. So he fell, in silence,  
through the endless darkness that haunted his conscience.  
  
"Are you running away?"  
  
He jerked around, searching for the source of the voice that echoed in his skull. No one. There was no one  
there. Why then did the hair at the back of his neck rise? This was just a dream, his dream. Oh gods, his  
dreams.   
  
"Do not worry," came the sweet voice, closer this time as if the owner was whispering directly into his ear.  
"That nightmare will not come tonight."  
  
He felt himself relax in helpless relief.  
  
"Tonight you live ten lifetimes."  
  
He stiffened, eyes widening in the darkness that seemed to jeer mockingly at him. Ten lifetimes. Ten lifetimes?  
  
{Do you know. . . if you truly hurt your soulmate in one lifetime, it can take up to ten lifetimes to forgive you?}  
  
What was the voice saying? What was it not saying?  
  
"Isn't it wonderful? The silence of words?"  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Hey, man, snap the hell out of it!"  
  
The voice and the light slap he received on his cheek jerked him back to reality. He stared at the face before him  
and promptly fell backwards in his chair.  
  
"I think you scared him, Jed," came an amused drawl.  
  
He snapped about and backed into a corner. The Dark Kings were sprawled about in his living room.  
  
And they were laughing.  
  
Jadeite was whining, saying something about how he didn't think he was that scary.  
  
Was he in hell then?  
  
"So, are we agreed?" Kunzite said, leaning forward on the armchair he had been resting on, focusing his gray eyes  
on his leader.  
  
Him.  
  
He nodded, unsure of what they had been discussing, unsure of why he would be discussing anything with them.  
  
"Well, I gotta run," Nephrite rose, stretching and made for the door.  
  
"Another date?" Jadeite asked.  
  
Zoisite merely shook his head at the banter before focusing his attention back on him. "Are you okay?"  
  
He cleared his throat then, "Yes," he nodded in reassurance. "I think I'm just going to go. . . Study." He rose from  
where he had fallen on the floor and left the Four Kings staring after him as he disappeared into his room.  
  
He could hear them even with the door shut.  
  
"I think this has affected him harder than we thought," came Zoisite's worried voice.  
  
"Gee, Zoi, ya think?" came Jadeite's sarcastic remark. "How would you like it if your one and only love was trying to  
kill you?"  
  
"There are times when I think having discovered the Golden Crystal was a bad thing," Nephrite, who was in the act  
of struggling to put his shoes on, put in.  
  
Kunzite, not surprising, remained silent.  
  
He leaned his head against the wall. He hoped they weren't talking about what he thought they were.  
  
Unfortunately, his hopes would be crushed.  
  
At the moment he was staring into a pair of sapphire eyes which were set in an angelic face framed by golden hair.  
She was holding a crystal sword to his throat and was hissing a threat to his comrades.  
  
"Move and he dies," she said, her lips twisting into a grotesque smile. He never knew someone so beautiful  
could be so ugly.  
  
The Four Kings growled their frustration.  
  
"Give it to me," she bent closer, pressing the blade deeper into his throat.  
  
Was this how she had felt when he had been the one demanding she had over the Silver Crystal to Beryl's greedy  
clutches? This betrayal that cut his soul to pieces, this desperation to reach out and take her into his arms in hopes  
that the embrace would bring back memories forgotten, was this how she had felt? He wanted to fall at her feet  
and beg her to come back to him, beg her to look at him with love instead of the cold, calculating hatred that now  
shone in her eyes. It hurt. Oh heaven, it hurt. There were no words for it. The feeling was too big, it crushed him  
beneath its weight and threatened to burst through his skin. It burned in his chest, ate ravenously at his heart.  
  
How had she forgiven him after this? How had she taken him back without question?  
  
He knew she was under Beryl's control and yet he questioned. How could she forget him? Had she loved him so  
little then, not to have been able to remember? Had she asked these questions when he had been the one with  
insane desire to end her life? How had she worked through the nightmares of the apathy in his eyes?  
  
"Serena," he managed to get out. "It's me. Don't you remember?" he was pleading with her, willing her to  
reach back into her memories and drag him out of it. The many times she'd helped him, kissed him, held him,  
fought with him. . . It was there, somewhere, he knew.  
  
Her eyes flickered, a brief flash of recognition which vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.  
  
"Tricks," she spat at his face. "Your tricks will not work on me, Earth Prince," she sneered at him, putting more  
weight on the blade. It cut into the skin of his throat and trickled blood onto the crystal surface of the sword. She  
stepped back and watched the droplet make its way down the whole length of the blade with morbid fascination.  
  
"Kill them," she ordered the youmas that had been waiting for her command. They sprung into action, fangs bared  
and claws drawn.  
  
"I'll come back for you. Next time, I it will be more than a trickle of blood," she promised him before vanishing.  
  
The battle went by, unremarkable. He remembered none of it. All he could see, feel, taste was the bitterness in  
his heart.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
The darkness flowed, ebbed, and drank in his anger.  
  
He screamed at it, shouted, raged. It was a nightmare. That was all it was.   
  
"Just a nightmare, you say?" came that mocking voice again.  
  
His hands clenched into fists. Why didn't the speaker come out and step into the light?  
  
Face me.  
  
"Have you forgotten that you listened to your nightmares?" the voice's tone rose, broke, and became a furious gale.  
"Have you become so lost in what I've shown you that you do not remember?"  
  
He froze, all the anger draining out of him. He was shell. Empty. Cold. He remembered.  
  
"Then feel it!"  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"I do not love you anymore."  
  
His world, shattered. He stood there, staring down at her, uncomprehending. Her face filled his vision. Such a  
beautiful face, such a beloved face. She could not be saying what he thought she had said, was she? He took a  
step towards her, hoping beyond hope he had just imagined it all.  
  
"Serena, I. . ."  
  
"Must I repeat myself?" came her low voice, filled with warning.   
  
He stared into her eyes, searching, seeking. All he found was disdain, traces of pity and impatience.  
  
"I always thought you were smart. Don't you get it?" she snapped at him, exasperated.   
  
"I. . ."  
  
{You. I love you, don't you see? You are my heart, my life, my soul. I can't breathe if you aren't in my life.  
You've brought me the joy I never thought I'd have. It sounds trite, but heaven, it's true. I love you. You  
love me too, right? You told me so. I loved you even before I knew who you were. I avoided you because  
I thought I was betraying her, the girl in my dreams. I would have turned my back on her if it meant I could keep  
you in my life. Don't you realize that? I would have given up Sailor Moon to keep Serena. But she was you. They  
were both you. I love you.}  
  
". . .don't. . ."  
  
{Don't say it. Please? Look at me. I'm begging you. Please? Heaven, I can't lose you. Not again. I couldn't  
bear it. Where did I go wrong? Tell me, I'll fix it! What did I do? I won't do it again. Just tell me why. I   
promise to make it better. Give me another chance. Don't say it. My heart can't bear it.}  
  
". . .love. . ."  
  
{A beautiful word, that. I never knew it could hurt so much to hear it. Once upon a time I thought it was just a  
myth. I laughed at the movies, the novels, the stupid fools who believed in it. Until I found out it was true. You  
taught me it was true. You showed me it was real. Please don't take it back.}  
  
". . .you. . ."  
  
{Me. Worthless little me. Nothing to do. Nothing to say. I was empty without you. Cold. Alone. Nothing.}   
  
". . . anymore."  
  
{But you did once. I remember the laughter, the hugs, the kisses, the teasing, the joy I found in being with you.  
Don't you remember? Forget the memories of life gone by, just focus on this one. They were wonderful times.  
We can make more. I don't think I can go through the day without you. You loved me once. Why don't you  
love me anymore?}  
  
"I don't love you anymore."  
  
Then she turned and walked away without turning back. He stood where she had left him, unable to move. She  
didn't come back, not knowing she had taken his heart and soul with her. The sun would not shine without her,  
the world would not turn. His, at least.  
  
Where did one start learning to live without one's life?  
  
Was this how she had felt? Would she ever be able to forgive him. . .?   
  
{What have I done?}  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Hurt your soulmate," came the answer from the dark.  
  
He was back in the abyss again, safe in its embrace.  
  
"One wrong can take ten lifetimes. How many have you made?"  
  
He was silent.   
  
"Ah. . . Have you then found the treasures that can be imparted in silence?" the voice murmured.  
  
Silence from him.  
  
"Wake up. . ."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
He sat up in bed, gasping for the air that had refused to enter his lungs in his sleep. A shudder ran through his  
body and he dropped his face in his hands, wondering at the wetness on his cheeks. He shook his head and  
glanced briefly out the window. The sun was just rising, judging from the rays of red that managed to work  
their way through the closed blinds. He eased the blanket away from him and rose unsteadily to his feet. A  
morning jog, that was what he needed to clear his mind. He stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door with  
a bang.  
  
It was going to be a beautiful day, he could tell. There was nary a cloud in the sky and the sun was already  
making its cheerful way up the horizon. The breeze that blew to tangle playful fingers in his hair held the crisp  
promise of summer and the fading sweetness of spring. He jogged on his usual route, half hoping to see a  
familiar ondadngoed girl barreling through the sidewalk and straight into his arms.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," someone said behind him even as he felt his body lurching forward under the weight of someone  
else's. He turned his head and found himself staring at a beautiful, golden-haired woman who was picking up her  
scattered things from the sidewalk. "I wasn't watching where I was going," she apologized again in that achingly  
sweet voice of hers.  
  
No. . . It could not be. This was a woman grown, not a teenager. He was hallucinating, that was what was most  
likely happening.  
  
Then she turned and smiled shyly up at him, unaware of the effect her summer blue gaze had on his knees. Dear  
heaven, yes it was. It was her. How in the world?  
  
{Tonight. . . live. . . lifetimes. . . .}  
  
"Here," he mustered out with great difficulty. "Let me help." He bent down beside her, noting that though grown   
she still had the same scent clinging on the air around her. He handed her the things she had dropped and sat there,  
staring.  
  
She rose gracefully to her feet, stuffing everything back into her bag with practiced ease. "Again, I'm sorry."  
She bowed to the man still kneeling on the sidewalk. "I must go."  
  
He surged to his feet when she turned to leave and raised a hand towards her, barely keeping himself from  
grasping her elbow and holding her back.   
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed and paused, facing him again. "I'm Serena. You are. . .?"  
  
She. . . Didn't. . . Know. . . Him. He blinked at her several times, not seeing the mortified expression on her face  
or the flush that stained her cheeks when he did not reply. He just stood there, stupefied.  
  
And realized too late that she had already stepped into the crosswalk. . .  
  
He did not have time to react when a speeding red sports car careened around the corner.   
  
He almost didn't see what happened.  
  
He almost didn't see the impact, but he heard it. Oh, did he hear it. The sound of a car ramming full force into  
a human body was not a sound one could easily forget. The sound of delicate bones breaking, of tires skidding,  
of a fragile life coming to an end. . .  
  
"No!"  
  
The word was torn from his chest and he rushed to her side. She lay there, in the middle of the road, her limbs  
at odd angles, her golden hair beginning to take on the scarlet hue of blood. He placed his hands on either side  
of her head, staring helplessly down at her face which had, amazingly, remained intact. He didn't notice the sluggish  
liquid that curled around his hands, all he could see was that her lashes her moving, trembling. What had just  
happened? This was not how it was supposed to be. No. He gazed down at her beloved features, wanted nothing  
more than to gather her into his arms but knew that he could not. He risked making her injuries worse. A sob  
caught at his throat, lodged there, and insisted he stopped breathing and simply lay down beside her. Die. Just  
die. But her eyes opened, hazy with pain and confusion. Blue met blue and locked.  
  
Tears pooled into her eyes and trickled down. He felt his heart contract, his chest collapse. Oh, darling, please  
don't cry. Everything will be all right.  
  
"Please. . ."  
  
Her voice reached him, muffled by the blood from internal bleeding.   
  
"Please. . ."  
  
He bent forward and placed his ear just over his lips. His own eyes burned. No tears came from them. It seemed  
that it was part of his punishment not to be able to express his anguish.   
  
"Tell. . . Damon. . ."  
  
Her breath caught, ceased.  
  
Panic rose in him. No! Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Hold on. They're coming. Please. . .  
  
"I love him. . ."  
  
The last three words rushed out of her. Having said it, she relaxed and was finally at peace.  
  
Having heard it, he might as well have died.  
  
I love him. . .  
  
Who? Who did she love? Not he. She had not even known his name. He did not notice when he was pulled  
away from her body, did not see the ambulance, the sound of a cry as a raven-haired young woman broke from  
the crowd and threw herself down by the fallen girl's side.   
  
He staggered back and his eyes fixed on the angry red car that had rammed into a wall, its front crushed by the  
impact. Vaguely, he saw the police extract a body from the driver's seat. Dead, he noted with cold satisfaction.  
The driver was dead. His eyes then focused on the license plate.  
  
Recognition.  
  
He knew that car. It was sitting in his apartment's garage. Its key was on his dresser.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Darkness.  
  
He was in darkness again. Swimming in it, drowning in it.   
  
Oh heaven, please let me die. . .  
  
"Not yet," crooned the disembodied voice. "We've only just begun."  
  
He would forever remember those words and the possibilities within them.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
"Darien! Darien!" someone was shaking him frantically. "Wake up. Come on. Wake up!"  
  
He cracked open his eyes and groaned as light assaulted his sense.  
  
"Thank heaven," the girl beside him said, hugging him close. "I've been trying to wake you for an hour."  
  
Her face swam into focus. Summer blue eyes, golden hair in "meatballs" on either side of her head, a worried  
frown between her brows. He reached up and smoothed the frown away.  
  
"Will you forgive me?" was the first thing out of his mouth.  
  
Confusion. "For what?" she frowned.  
  
"I've sinned."  
  
She blinked down at him. "Sinned? What a word to use, Darien. Come on now. Get up. We have to-"  
  
His hand fastened around her wrist and refused to allow her to rise. "Can you forgive me?"  
  
She glared down at him then, seeing the pleading and the loss in his midnight eyes, softened. "Darien," she  
sighed, brushing his bangs back. "Love covers a multitude of sins."  
  
A smile bloomed on his face. Hope.  
  
"Then-" he began.  
  
"Come on. We have to go," she insisted, tugging him up. "We'll be late for the wedding rehearsal."  
  
He stared blankly at her. Wedding what? His stomach knotted into a cold lump of dread. Not again. . .  
  
"Wedding rehearsal! You're the best man, remember?" she frowned at him.   
  
"For. . .?" he whispered with morbid curiosity.  
  
"My wedding, you idiot!" her frown turned into a scowl and she hit him before marching out of his bedroom.  
"You have ten minutes, you hear? Ten minutes!"  
  
Her. Wedding.  
  
He collapsed back in his bed and covered his face.  
  
When was this going to end?  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
He welcomed the darkness. In it he could hide his pain, his shame, his tears.  
  
This was just a dream.   
  
"Of what can be. . ."  
  
That voice. Why wouldn't it go away?  
  
"How many times have you wronged her?" the question came again.  
  
He shuddered.  
  
"Shall I remind you of more?"  
  
No!  
  
"Then stop. Please, Endymion. Stop."  
  
He curled himself into a ball, hugged his knees. Would she ever forgive him?  
  
"If you ask."  
  
How could she?  
  
"Love covers a multitude of sins. . ."  
  
With that, the darkness faded and he was again surrounded by the foggy mists of dream. He could see now.  
And he knew which road to take.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
More Author's Notes:  
  
*stretches* That took me about an hour. A bit strange, I know, but I woke up and sat down and it just came out.  
I was just wondering how Serena always found it in herself to forgive Darien (Dubbed versions of them here). I'm  
a die-hard Usagi and Mamoru fan but sometimes. . . I just want to whap him over the head and give him a wake up  
call. Anyhow. . . Not much to say. *boggles at this* I'm losing my touch when it comes to these author's notes.  
*sad sigh*  
  
The Rose. *winces* I'm working on it. I swear. I promise. Please don't hurt me. ;___; *yeeks at the threats*  
  
For all those who reviewed and critiques and e-mailed me, thank you. I've tried to write back to as many of you as  
I can. To those I have not yet been able to reach, I'm sorry. Just know that I appreciate the feedback and I  
treasure them. Take care always and don't forget:  
  
Comments and constructive criticisms are good!  
  
Always,  
Dina 


End file.
